Post by westernsunset on Aug 27, 2018 1:06:02 GMT 10
Title: Impermanent
Rating: R
Word Count: 1424
Bingo: Loss + Disappointment + Lover + City + Friends
Summary: Qasim grapples with the loss of an old lover and finds comfort in an unlikely place.
Warning: Story revolves around death and grief. I don't know why both my bingo stories ended up being so heavy! But sometimes you just need to get weepy while writing fic on the train.
Sometimes Qasim missed him so much he could hardly stand it. Some days Sofyan’s absence would just be a dull ache. Always there, but bearable. Other days he would wake up and the grief would be like a ton of bricks on his chest. On those days, everything took more effort and it was all Qasim could do to get through all he needed to do until he could collapse once more.
His upbringing prevented him from drowning his sorrows in liquor. His tribe, one of the strictest, didn’t believe in any sort of alcohol or mind-altering substance. And though Qasim had been away long enough to enjoy the occasional spirit, he didn’t ever think of using it to mask his pain. He couldn’t distract himself the loss of Sofyan. The overwhelming absence was his penance.
Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault. Sofyan had died in a skirmish with a spidren. Sofyan had died while defending their tribe. That was his choice. But even though Qasim knew that he didn’t physically kill Sofyan, he wondered what would have happened if he’d been successful in convincing Sofyan to come to the city with him. Sofyan would probably still be alive. He would have been here. Qasim wouldn’t have the ache in his chest he’d had since he left the Blazing Flames.
They’d been so in love, before Qasim left. Secretly, quietly, but madly. They both knew what could happen if they were found out, but it didn’t stop them from sitting as close as they dared around the fire, letting their hands linger as they worked, always finding the others eyes in the crowd. If someone asked Qasim when he was the happiest, he would say the moment he met Sofyan’s gaze and knew they’d go out to the most remote guard post, where they could be alone.
When The Own came to Blazing Flames to recruit Bazhir warriors, Qasim thought the choice would be easy. To be free of the tribe’s prying eyes, to make a life outside of one tribe in one corner of the desert, to love Sofyan, if not openly, then with less fear. He’d thought Sofyan would feel the same.
Sofyan has been scandalized at the thought of ever leaving.
“How could you think of it?” he’d said when they were alone at the guard post. “To leave our tribe, what we’ve pledged our life to? For what?”
“For what? For freedom, our freedom,” Qasim reached for his hand.
“Don’t be naive. You know it won’t be like that.”
“It’ll be better than this!”
“To hide just the same but be hated for our skin. That doesn’t sound better Qasim.”
Qasim opened his mouth to retort but he knew Sofyan was right, at least a little. But all the same.
“If we stay here we can’t be together. Not forever. My family asks every day when I’m going to marry and someday I’ll have to. We both will,” Qasim said.
“Of course we will. We always knew that.”
“But if we went with the Own we wouldn’t have to! We’d be free of our families expectations! And you can’t even be married in the Own.”
“What if I want to marry?” Sofyan said in a small voice.
“What if you—what?”
“Our tribe is the most important thing to me Qasim! I want to protect it, I want to have children and continue my family line. I want to safeguard our people, our culture from a northern king who would conquer us. I’m disappointed you don’t feel the same way,” Sofyan said.
“Why would I—Sofyan I don’t care about that. I just want to be,” here Qasim lowered his voice, “I just want to be with you.”
“You knew this wasn’t permanent.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Don’t be a child Qasim.”
Of course he’d known it couldn’t be permanent. Not here. But gods had he dreamed of it. He thought this could be a chance to make that dream a reality.
“So even if I stay…”
“You know what has to happen.” Then Sofyan’s voice grew tender and he wrapped his arms around Qasim. “I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, maybe the most I’ll ever love anyone. I wish things could be different but you know they can’t.”
“I can’t lose you,” Qasim’s voice was muffled in Sofyan’s chest.
“My love, we were always going to lose each other.” Qasim could hear tears in Sofyan’s voice.
“I could stay,” Qasim said, desperately.
“You’d want to go no matter what. And you should. I know you enough to know you want to travel, see the world. I always thought this could happen.”
Sofyan had gotten married. He’d written Qasim to say he was very much in love with Amira, that he loved her almost as much as he loved Qasim. Qasim was elated and broken-hearted all at once. He’d gone to the wedding to see for himself, his chest twisting into a knot when he saw how Sofyan looked at Amira, how he really did love her. Sofyan had found Qasim near the end of the wedding, whispered that he wished they could dance together. It broke Qasim’s heart again to think what it would be like to hold Sofyan and not care who saw.
There had been a cremation, and Qasim had gone, numb from shock. But the real mourning didn’t happen until a year later, a Bazhir tradition. A ceremony, to mark the finality, the new world without the one you lost.
His first night back, Amira’s brother came to him. “Amira wants to speak to you,” he said, his eyes betraying his distrust. Qasim followed wordlessly, at a loss for what Amira could want from him.
He almost gasped when he came into her tent. Reminders of Sofyan were everywhere. Qasim had seen this table, the chairs, the bedroll so many times before. It was like stepping into a memory.
He was so overwhelmed he didn’t notice he was alone with Amira.
“Qasim, please,” she gestured to one of the cushions at the low table. When he sat, she poured him tea, the picture of a perfect Bazhir hostess.
Tradition dictated his words. “I hope the year has mended your heart though he lives in your memory.”
Amira smiled tightly. “I hate that platitude. My heart will never mend. Certainly not in a year.”
Qasim almost spoke his agreement but remembered himself just in time. “I can’t imagine.”
“Yes you can.”
Qasim’s heart stopped, but he didn’t say anything.
“I certainly don’t understand it, but Sofyan told me how much you meant to him. And I think I know how you may be feeling now. I know what it felt like to love him.”
The two looked at each other. Finally, Qasim broke the silence. “Do you ever wake up and think you can’t possibly go on?”
“But some days you don’t notice it, and those days are worse?” Amira finished.
Tears fell from Qasim’s eyes. “He loved you so much, I know he did. I was so jealous of you.”
“He took me to the guard post where you two used to go. I could see how much he missed you,” Amira said, wiping away her own tears.
“I missed him too. I always wished…”
“You wished you could have been together forever. I know what that feels like now.”
“He’d be so happy we were talking though,” Qasim said, a laugh in his voice.
Amira smiled. “He did always hope we would be friends.”
“We can be,” Qasim said, reaching his hand to her. Amira took it, and squeezed.
“Do you think we’ll ever feel whole again?” Amira asked him.
“I don’t think we’ll ever stop missing him. But I don’t think it will always feel this bad.”
Amira nodded. “I’ve never been in love like that.”
Qasim couldn’t meet her eyes but he said, quietly, “me neither.”
The two sat quietly, grasping hands, until Amira’s brother came back. Only then was Qasim snapped out of his reverie.
“May—“ Qasim said, fumbling for the proper goodbye as he stumbled to leave. “May time ease your pain.”
Amira didn’t say anything but gave Qasim a slow nod. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’ll come by as long as I’m here.”
“Good. Sofyan would want that.”
Qasim did his best to hold back tears in front of Amira’s brother as he turned to leave. That night, he went to the outer guard post and wept for the man he and Amira had loved.
Rating: R
Word Count: 1424
Bingo: Loss + Disappointment + Lover + City + Friends
Summary: Qasim grapples with the loss of an old lover and finds comfort in an unlikely place.
Warning: Story revolves around death and grief. I don't know why both my bingo stories ended up being so heavy! But sometimes you just need to get weepy while writing fic on the train.
Sometimes Qasim missed him so much he could hardly stand it. Some days Sofyan’s absence would just be a dull ache. Always there, but bearable. Other days he would wake up and the grief would be like a ton of bricks on his chest. On those days, everything took more effort and it was all Qasim could do to get through all he needed to do until he could collapse once more.
His upbringing prevented him from drowning his sorrows in liquor. His tribe, one of the strictest, didn’t believe in any sort of alcohol or mind-altering substance. And though Qasim had been away long enough to enjoy the occasional spirit, he didn’t ever think of using it to mask his pain. He couldn’t distract himself the loss of Sofyan. The overwhelming absence was his penance.
Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault. Sofyan had died in a skirmish with a spidren. Sofyan had died while defending their tribe. That was his choice. But even though Qasim knew that he didn’t physically kill Sofyan, he wondered what would have happened if he’d been successful in convincing Sofyan to come to the city with him. Sofyan would probably still be alive. He would have been here. Qasim wouldn’t have the ache in his chest he’d had since he left the Blazing Flames.
They’d been so in love, before Qasim left. Secretly, quietly, but madly. They both knew what could happen if they were found out, but it didn’t stop them from sitting as close as they dared around the fire, letting their hands linger as they worked, always finding the others eyes in the crowd. If someone asked Qasim when he was the happiest, he would say the moment he met Sofyan’s gaze and knew they’d go out to the most remote guard post, where they could be alone.
When The Own came to Blazing Flames to recruit Bazhir warriors, Qasim thought the choice would be easy. To be free of the tribe’s prying eyes, to make a life outside of one tribe in one corner of the desert, to love Sofyan, if not openly, then with less fear. He’d thought Sofyan would feel the same.
Sofyan has been scandalized at the thought of ever leaving.
“How could you think of it?” he’d said when they were alone at the guard post. “To leave our tribe, what we’ve pledged our life to? For what?”
“For what? For freedom, our freedom,” Qasim reached for his hand.
“Don’t be naive. You know it won’t be like that.”
“It’ll be better than this!”
“To hide just the same but be hated for our skin. That doesn’t sound better Qasim.”
Qasim opened his mouth to retort but he knew Sofyan was right, at least a little. But all the same.
“If we stay here we can’t be together. Not forever. My family asks every day when I’m going to marry and someday I’ll have to. We both will,” Qasim said.
“Of course we will. We always knew that.”
“But if we went with the Own we wouldn’t have to! We’d be free of our families expectations! And you can’t even be married in the Own.”
“What if I want to marry?” Sofyan said in a small voice.
“What if you—what?”
“Our tribe is the most important thing to me Qasim! I want to protect it, I want to have children and continue my family line. I want to safeguard our people, our culture from a northern king who would conquer us. I’m disappointed you don’t feel the same way,” Sofyan said.
“Why would I—Sofyan I don’t care about that. I just want to be,” here Qasim lowered his voice, “I just want to be with you.”
“You knew this wasn’t permanent.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Don’t be a child Qasim.”
Of course he’d known it couldn’t be permanent. Not here. But gods had he dreamed of it. He thought this could be a chance to make that dream a reality.
“So even if I stay…”
“You know what has to happen.” Then Sofyan’s voice grew tender and he wrapped his arms around Qasim. “I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, maybe the most I’ll ever love anyone. I wish things could be different but you know they can’t.”
“I can’t lose you,” Qasim’s voice was muffled in Sofyan’s chest.
“My love, we were always going to lose each other.” Qasim could hear tears in Sofyan’s voice.
“I could stay,” Qasim said, desperately.
“You’d want to go no matter what. And you should. I know you enough to know you want to travel, see the world. I always thought this could happen.”
Sofyan had gotten married. He’d written Qasim to say he was very much in love with Amira, that he loved her almost as much as he loved Qasim. Qasim was elated and broken-hearted all at once. He’d gone to the wedding to see for himself, his chest twisting into a knot when he saw how Sofyan looked at Amira, how he really did love her. Sofyan had found Qasim near the end of the wedding, whispered that he wished they could dance together. It broke Qasim’s heart again to think what it would be like to hold Sofyan and not care who saw.
There had been a cremation, and Qasim had gone, numb from shock. But the real mourning didn’t happen until a year later, a Bazhir tradition. A ceremony, to mark the finality, the new world without the one you lost.
His first night back, Amira’s brother came to him. “Amira wants to speak to you,” he said, his eyes betraying his distrust. Qasim followed wordlessly, at a loss for what Amira could want from him.
He almost gasped when he came into her tent. Reminders of Sofyan were everywhere. Qasim had seen this table, the chairs, the bedroll so many times before. It was like stepping into a memory.
He was so overwhelmed he didn’t notice he was alone with Amira.
“Qasim, please,” she gestured to one of the cushions at the low table. When he sat, she poured him tea, the picture of a perfect Bazhir hostess.
Tradition dictated his words. “I hope the year has mended your heart though he lives in your memory.”
Amira smiled tightly. “I hate that platitude. My heart will never mend. Certainly not in a year.”
Qasim almost spoke his agreement but remembered himself just in time. “I can’t imagine.”
“Yes you can.”
Qasim’s heart stopped, but he didn’t say anything.
“I certainly don’t understand it, but Sofyan told me how much you meant to him. And I think I know how you may be feeling now. I know what it felt like to love him.”
The two looked at each other. Finally, Qasim broke the silence. “Do you ever wake up and think you can’t possibly go on?”
“But some days you don’t notice it, and those days are worse?” Amira finished.
Tears fell from Qasim’s eyes. “He loved you so much, I know he did. I was so jealous of you.”
“He took me to the guard post where you two used to go. I could see how much he missed you,” Amira said, wiping away her own tears.
“I missed him too. I always wished…”
“You wished you could have been together forever. I know what that feels like now.”
“He’d be so happy we were talking though,” Qasim said, a laugh in his voice.
Amira smiled. “He did always hope we would be friends.”
“We can be,” Qasim said, reaching his hand to her. Amira took it, and squeezed.
“Do you think we’ll ever feel whole again?” Amira asked him.
“I don’t think we’ll ever stop missing him. But I don’t think it will always feel this bad.”
Amira nodded. “I’ve never been in love like that.”
Qasim couldn’t meet her eyes but he said, quietly, “me neither.”
The two sat quietly, grasping hands, until Amira’s brother came back. Only then was Qasim snapped out of his reverie.
“May—“ Qasim said, fumbling for the proper goodbye as he stumbled to leave. “May time ease your pain.”
Amira didn’t say anything but gave Qasim a slow nod. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’ll come by as long as I’m here.”
“Good. Sofyan would want that.”
Qasim did his best to hold back tears in front of Amira’s brother as he turned to leave. That night, he went to the outer guard post and wept for the man he and Amira had loved.